


Letting Go

by fardareismai2



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris, True Blood
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-09
Updated: 2009-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fardareismai2/pseuds/fardareismai2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one shot from Eric's POV about his feelings for Sookie and the aftermath of de Castro's takeover. Spoilers for book 8.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letting Go

Through the rainy blur of the windows, I watched the cars go by. One by one, silently. I could hear nothing from up here. Behind the light proof glass I watched, as they came and went through the gates, and waited for the sunset.

I wondered at the many roads my long life had taken me down. The paths that led me inexorably to this place. I never believed in destiny. I believed in taking what I wanted. Determining my path. So why did I feel like being here was an inevitability?

From the day Bill Compton walked into my bar with her on his arm, my life course was sent skittering off onto a different path. I became determined to make her mine, although I did not then understand that doing so would invariably make me hers.

When I left her home the night of de Castro's takeover, I was resolved to settle things between us. The next few weeks of politics dispossessed me of that notion. I became acutely aware that to be associated with me in any personal way would place her in unacceptable danger. Danger that, despite my best efforts, despite the king's offer of protection, I might not be able to prevent. Twinning should have alerted me to that fact, but I did not then remember what I do now.

When I told her that I remembered she could not possibly understand how a vampire remembers. We remember in exquisite detail every whisper and gasp, every touch, every word said. We remember the taste of each person we feed from. We remember the feel of their bodies under our hands, the feel of each thrust, each bead of sweat. We remember it all. In microscopic detail. It can bury us if we are not careful.

I can still smell her scent, taste her essence, feel her skin beneath my fingers.

I came to her several weeks after the takeover. I could feel her joy and contentment through the bond as I arrived at her home. It tugged at my soul. I watched her face crumple, and tears spring to her eyes, as I told her we could not be. When she, as she does, stubbornly refused to accept it, I felt her heart break as I roughly told her I did not, could not love her.

I can still smell her sorrow, taste her tears, feel her skin beneath my fingers.

Bill claimed he would die for her. That is easy. I loved her enough to let her go. To set her free. To protect her the only way I could. That was the measure of my love.

From afar I watched over her. Watched her. I could not bear it when she took lovers. And she could not bear them for long. Sometimes, I would see her turn and look out the window, as though she sensed my presence, but I was too far and too well hidden for her to see. Then she would turn back to the room, sadness washing over her face, and sorrow piercing my heart.

I thought, hoped, the bond might weaken over time, at least for her. I knew for me it never would. I would always be attuned to her. Which is why I knew where to find her that night. All of my careful planning to protect her from my world, to protect her from the conspiracies and schemes of vampire politics, and in the end, it was a freak accident. A ladder with a broken step.

I flew to her then. She looked at me with those blue eyes that always pierced me to my soul. "I knew you would come." And I could no longer be denied. I would have her. She would be mine.

I walked through the pouring rain, past the hearses and the mourners. I walked past two more funerals, and turned right. A few more steps and I came to a bench. I turned my face to the rain, and let it wash me clean. Then I sat and waited for my child, my lover, my soul to rise.


End file.
